Roping stories

By Gabriela Resto-Montero
Special to chipsquinn.org

Posted: March 14, 2008

Gabriela Resto-Montero

Soon after learning that I would work in California as a Chips Quinn Scholar, I began to form stereotypical fantasies of my summer with weekends spent at the beach.

My misguided expectations set me up for quite a shock when I realized that Salinas, situated along the state’s Central Coast, wasn’t exactly beachfront. In fact, with large swaths of farmland and sizable mountains, the landscape reminded me of Colorado.

I adapted my plans for my free time and also resolved to find out about the issues that were important to the city.

In my varied experiences as a general-assignment reporter for The Salinas Californian, nothing captured the essence of the city like the California Rodeo.

That’s row-day-oh.

The long ‘o’ and ‘a’ refer to the weeklong event of rodeo, which includes the sporting event itself, musical performances and parades. Ro-dee-o (as they say in my neck of the woods) describes the actual sport of calf-roping, bull-ridin’ and bronc-bustin’.

Cowboys compete in rodeo at the rodeo.

Undeterred by semantics, I got to work on the paper’s annual “Californian Big Week” special section. Every year the Chips Quinn Scholar writes the bulk of the section, the editors said.

The project challenged me to come up with a fresh perspective on an event that had taken place in Salinas for 97 years.

I suggested stories on rodeo fashion for fans and a feature on the hectic lifestyle of rodeo circuit cowboys.

After visiting a few of the western-wear shops in town, I felt I had a handle on the fashion story.

For the cowboy feature, however, I would have to brave the chutes and approach the notoriously no-nonsense men during the event. The horses scared me more than the cowboys, but I still felt a little nervous about asking personal questions of men who typically keep to themselves.

As I watched the bull rides and witnessed bucking broncos tossing the competitors like rag dolls, I had just one question: What kind of health insurance can a man who makes a living riding bucking animals get?

My third interview, Bobby Mote, amiably answered my question: They don’t. Injured cowboys pay cash for medical care, or as my favorite interview said: “I send them (the hospital) five bucks every now and then to let them know I’m still paying.”

I thought Mote also could provide insight into how one becomes a rodeo cowboy in the first place.

“How does one become a brokeback rider anyway?” I asked.

The subconscious is a cruel thing, and I instantly realized that my film-fanatic mind brought up the closest association to cowboys that I had, “Brokeback Mountain,” the film that portrayed the secret relationship between two cowboys.

I corrected myself immediately and said “bareback bronc rider,” but not before I embarrassed myself and the cowboy.

Thankfully he gave a terse reply, and I was free to take my mortification and leave.

When I wrapped up the section and event coverage, the cowboy-life story remained my favorite. Even though I’d stuck my foot in it, I had overcome some fears (horse droppings, difficult interviews) to cover it.

I felt a sense of accomplishment when my editor congratulated me on achieving the balance between cheeky and reverent in my coverage.

For the rest of the summer, I carried the confidence from completing the section into my assignments and remembered always to think before I spoke.

Back to top